


Not Everyone Wants Something From Me

by badtothebinding



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gen, M/M, mentions of Ian/Kash, mentions of Ian/Ned, mentions of abuse, mentions of underage relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 18:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1358086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badtothebinding/pseuds/badtothebinding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Not everybody wants something from me, Mick.”</p><p>Laying on his back on the pull out couch in Brian’s loft, Ian couldn’t get his own words out of his head. They sounded hollow even to him. They left a sour taste in his mouth. Because he knew in his heart they weren't’ true. </p><p>This fic was prompted by Ian's last line in the loft party scene of 4x07.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Everyone Wants Something From Me

“Not everybody wants something from me, Mick.”

  


Laying on his back on the pull out couch in Brian’s loft, Ian couldn’t get his own words out of his head. They sounded hollow even to him. They left a sour taste in his mouth. Because he knew in his heart they weren't’ true.

  


\------------

  


Frank treated them all like shit growing up but for some reason Ian got the brunt of his anger through the years.

  


Once when he was six years old he was playing with his army men on the living room floor when Frank stumbled in, drunk, clad only in boxers and a dirty wife beater. Ian didn’t look up, staying still, trying to avoid being noticed. He’d learned early on to be wary of Frank when he was drinking.

  


Frank just grunted and moved over to the arm chair. Ian sighed a little in relief but it was short lived.

  


“Fuck! Can’t you keep these goddamn toys off the fuckin’ floor?” Frank roared as he rounded on Ian, who froze. Green figures fell from limp fingers.

  
  


Ian could see the blow coming but it didn’t stop the pain from exploding in his jaw as his neck snapped to the side and he fell to the floor. Frank was reaching his open hand back again when Fiona came running in from the other room. She didn’t say anything but put her small body in between Ian, who was crouched on the floor, and Frank, who just glared and continued shouting.

  


“It’s your job to keep these fuckin’ boys in line Fiona!” Frank yelled. Fiona just stared back into his eyes, not saying anything but not moving, her arms spread wide as if trying to hide Ian from Frank’s gaze.

  


The tension broke when seven year old Lip came barrelling through the front door, backpack stuffed with other kids’ homework.

  


“What’s goin on?” Lip asked, growing still and glancing back and forth between Frank, Fiona, and Ian on the floor. He could see the bruise blooming on Ian’s cheek already, joining the fading bruise over his eyebrow from a couple weeks ago.

  


Frank glanced briefly away from Fiona’s cold gaze to Lip’s face, which had grown stony. He shrugged and huffed out a breath, turning away and flopping down onto the armchair.

  


Fiona spared him a final glare before bending down and helping Ian up from the floor. “Lip, go check the oven. I put in some nuggets for dinner tonight and grab the ketchup from the fridge,” she said as she walked Ian over to the kitchen table to sit while she grabbed a bag of frozen peas.

  


“I didn’t do anything Fiona, I swear.” Ian whispered.

  


“I know, Ian.” Fiona replied sadly, holding the frozen bag to his swollen cheek.

  


He never did anything, but that didn’t seem to matter to Frank. Fiona was the favorite, the caretaker, and Frank wouldn’t dare give her any reasons to leave him stuck with his own kids. Lip was smart enough to get away with almost anything, and if Frank ever started on him he’d find some way to weasel out of it before he got violent.

  


But Ian wasn’t so lucky. He wasn’t smart like Lip or important like Fiona. He was expendable. According to Frank, his only use was taking out his frustrations; with Monica, with the deadbeats at the Alibi, with the government, with Grammy, or for no real reason at all.

  


Ian sat at the table while Lip and Fiona went about setting up for dinner, pulling out trays of chicken nuggets and pouring out cups of juice. The only sound in the house was the muted voices on the television in the living room.

  


“Hey, Ian” came a yell from the other room, “ get me a beer.”

  


\------------

  


Linda catching them was a blessing in disguise really. Ian knew he and Kash were just a fling, doomed from the start. Ian wasn’t lying when he told Lip he cared about Kash, but he knew Kash would never leave his wife and kids. He’s not brave enough to stand up to her.

  


For Kash, Ian was an escape. Their love was a fantasy, a dream he used to deal with his shitty reality but it would never work.

  


And that’s fine, Ian’s young. He didn’t really believe he’d found the love of his life at fifteen with a middle aged married man. But the sneaking around sucked, and he really did feel bad for Linda, who he actually really liked in a slightly intimidated kind of way. He was glad she at least let him keep his job, even after everything.

  


But the thing that really got to him was that final ultimatum: “No touching the forbidden fruit until I’m pregnant.” Like he was some kind of reward for good behavior. The carrot dangling at the end of the stick. It made him feel dirty all of a sudden.

  


Used.

  


\------------

  


At least Ned was honest about using him for a quick fuck. I mean, he may have shown an interest once or twice but Ian knew better. He wasn’t the first young redhead to visit Ned’s condo; treated to fancy room service dinners, dazzling views of the city, expensive scotches.

  


“Honestly, anything that moves, that’s me.”

  


Ned never used his name. It was always “Ginger” or “Red” or even “hot stuff.” Ian knew it was so he wouldn’t accidentally use the wrong name. He wouldn’t be surprised if even his texts were copied and pasted from one person to another.

  


<Hey hotstuff how about another round?>

  


Ian was surprised to see Ned again at the store after Mickey beat the shit out of him on the Northside. He’d like to think he was surprised when Ned asked him to rob his house but he really wasn’t. Northside snobs like Ned didn’t think much of South Side scum like him. He might have been good for a fuck but he wasn’t much better than all the other white trash from the neighborhood.

  


“I need someone to rob my house.”

  


That’s all Ian was to Ned. A convenient fuck, a willing drinking companion, or a thief-for-hire. And Ian knew that going in. He accepted it.

  


He wasn’t surprised.

  


\------------

  


The men at the club were even more obvious about what they wanted.

  


“Hey there hot stuff.”

  


“Let me buy you a drink beautiful.”

  


“Wanna get out of here, Red?”

  


Ian knew what they were looking for; a tight ass, a hard cock, a warm mouth. Nothing more, nothing less. It was fun; a good distraction.

  


Ian knew what they wanted from him because he wanted it too.

  


\------------

  


Ian looked across the pull out to stare at the other boy’s face, softened in sleep; the scowl that sometimes seemed permanently etched into his features gone for the moment.

  


Mickey. Who had comforted him when hurricane Monica swept back through their lives.

  


Mickey. Who had taken a bullet for Ian not once but two separate times and still came back for more.

  


Mickey. Who beat the shit out of anyone who looked at Ian sideways.

  


Mickey. Who had come to find him at the club to tell him about his family. Who watched over him with the customers at the Fairy Tale and made sure he got home safely.

  


Ian sighed, rolling onto his back again, looking up to the ceiling.

  


He may not say it, but Ian knew what Mickey felt with him before. What he had always probably felt; because he felt the same way.

  


He didn’t want to be Frank’s punching bag, or Kash’s escape.

  


He wasn’t just a fucktoy for Ned or the other queens in Boystown.

  


He didn’t want any of them. He wanted Mickey.

  


Because Mickey wanted him.

  



End file.
